


'tis the damn season, after all

by huihao_ai



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst ahead hoho, Christmas!, Implied Childhood Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, M/M, happy ending but I don't wanna spoil too much, married!junhao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huihao_ai/pseuds/huihao_ai
Summary: When things aren't working out, do you hold on or let go?"you could call me babe for the weekend. 'tis the damn season"Or, junhao's marriage is on the rocks, and it's Christmas season.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	'tis the damn season, after all

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm not used to writing angst but I tried anyway. Story loosely inspired by 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift! It's mostly narrations here, and changes in point of view, but I hope you'll understand anyway. Enjoy reading, and Merry Christmas y'all!

Minghao is sitting in front of the dining table, finishing up a glass of wine. He closed a book he's been reading, unable to concentrate. It's raining quite hard tonight. 

The door opens. Junhui enters, and they both looked shocked to see the other.

"You're here early," Minghao commented.

Junhui smiled tiredly but did not reply. Dark circles ring his eyes, his hair a little wet from the drizzle.

"It's raining outside," Junhui says, as a way to fill the silence, putting down his stuff.

Minghao hums. He gets up and made to go to the room. 

He hesitates by the door, a habitual 'good night' almost leaving his lips. It doesn't, and he closes the door with a bang that echoes around the quiet house.

**

The holidays are coming up.

December rolls in, and it's getting colder, people are bustling about in shops trying to get gift shopping done. Children sing songs, the occasional neighbors blasting songs from obnoxiously-sized speakers.

His phone rang with an upcoming call from his mother. He answered with a sigh. It's that time of the year.

"We've missed you and Junhui! All our relatives from the north are coming. We look forward to see you, dear!"

Minghao smiled bitterly. "We'll be there, Mom," he says tiredly.

**

He waited for Junhui to get home that night. Something he hasn't done in months.

Junhui arrives close to midnight with a plastic bag in hand. Like last night, he seems surprised Minghao was still awake.

"Is there something wrong? You're usually asleep at this hour."

"Mama called. It's my grandfather's birthday. We're expected at the family gathering next week."

"Oh." He sets down the plastic bag, taking the packets of tea and placing them on the cupboard. He puts bottles of wine on the refrigerator.

Minghao looks at the fridge that never runs out of his dinner wine and the tea he drinks every morning. He gets up and goes inside their room.

**

His grandparents' house was not that small, but it seemed like it with the number of people milling about as they went inside. His grandparents, aunt and uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews were all there. 

Junhui holds his hand as they step out of the car. Minghao squeezed it back. Reunions always taxed him.

They hugged and made small talk with his relatives, Minghao could honestly not recall all of them. He does recall, however, being hugged by his grandmother, and a small request she whispered in his ear. He just smiled at her and said, "Maybe soon, Grandma." She didn't notice the sadness in his eyes when he turned away, but Junhui did.

That night, Junhui slept first. Minghao thinks it's the first time in months that his husband fell asleep before midnight. He goes out to the balcony, taking the glass of wine he got from the refrigerator downstairs (good thing his grandparents kept a stock of his favorite) and savored the night air. Troubling thoughts filled his mind, and it's not the first time. Junhui felt as distant to him as the stars to the moon, and he wonders just when did they let it happen.

**

They were hanging out with the younger kids and teens the next day. His grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles went to the town square to buy some ingredients for their bonfire and segue a temple visit, leaving them to babysit.

Most of the kids lounged around the living room with their gadgets. Junhui was having fun with his twin cousins who were currently wreaking havoc in the kitchen trying to make food out of brownies and chocolate bars. Minghao was sitting on a single couch and watching them. 

"Uncle Hao, why are you staring at Uncle Jun like that? Do you want to play with them?" his young nephew asked beside him, phone discarded on the floor.

"Just making sure they're not going to burn the kitchen, Samuel," he replied. He remembers that one time in college when Junhui tried to make pasta in the middle of the night because he was stressed from pulling a finals all-nighter and Minghao had to put the fire off with a bucket of water. Good thing it didn't set off the smoke detectors, or they would have been in a world of trouble.

"Why you smiling like that, Uncle?" Samuel asked again, his round eyes big with wonder.

"That's called a whipped smile, Sammy," Samuel's older brother said in a low voice that Minghao heard anyway. He rolled his eyes but the smile left his face. How long has it been since he smiled like this?

He didn't notice that Junhui and the twins were already done wiping the counter off, their chocolate explosion brownies discarded on the table. He didn't notice one of the twins smiling at him, and the other pointing in his direction that had Junhui looking over him. 

They went to bed that night, facing opposite sides of the bed as they had been doing the past few months. Minghao couldn't fall asleep easily as he remembers his grandmother whispering to him, asking when she'd be getting grandkids from them. His heart clenched knowing he lied to her, that the soon he was talking about might be never. He's known Junhui for most of his life, since they were children running around skinning their knees. Now he barely sees him, barely talks to him, and this weekend was the longest they've spent together in months.

Junhui was also awake, and could hear Minghao's every rustle, but couldn't do anything because he thinks it would make everything worse. They've been in limbo for the past few months and he's walking on eggshells around his spouse, of all people. When the twins asked him if he loves chocolate, and if Uncle Minghao is like chocolate to him, he couldn't answer right away. His heart clenched at what that implies. He knows they're drifting apart, and he's letting it happen.

**

They bid happy goodbyes to their family before driving home with promises to go back for Christmas weekend.

The drive back home was quiet. Minghao rolled down the windows and Junhui switched to a random blues station. The air was heavy with the weight of all the things they want to say to each other but can't.

**

It was the next day, and Junhui went home to a note on the dining room table.

Went to my parents' house. - Minghao

He sat down, plastic bag of tea packets forgotten by the door.

It used to be love, or darling, or your adorable frogman. He can't recall the last time Minghao signed notes with those endearments anymore. He can't recall the last time Minghao leaves him notes.  
**

Like everything else, it happened gradually.

Junhui would work until late into the night, forgetting a dinner date until his husband's 35th text message and seventh call. Minghao would wander to the kitchen on a Sunday morning, dark circles under his eyes, heading straight for his bad-mood-dark tea and ignoring his husband's questions of how he is feeling. Some mornings they don't see each other anymore.

When they were young and had sleepovers, they would talk until late into the night about mysteries and whatever weird stories Junhui was reading on the internet. When they were dating, they would be on the phone until one of them (Minghao usually) would fall asleep first. In the early years of their marriage, Junhui would run his fingers through Minghao's hair as he talks about his day, his husband's arm around his waist.

Now, they barely talk. Thoughts about the universe and the unknown future are too heavy when you're worn down by work. Small talk of the weather and what they had for lunch became mundanely monotonous and repetitive.

Now, their eyes barely meet because there's a lot to be said with a single look, and they both knew what is coming, but they aren't ready.

**

Minghao went out for a walk at around midnight. He's been back at his hometown for three days now, and the weather is still cold.

His parents were surprised when he showed up a few afternoons ago, mumbling an excuse about Junhui being out of town for work and he doesn't like to be home alone. They didn't ask further. He only had a suitcase with him anyway.

So far, he's read a book, knitted a blob of wool that was supposed to be a glove, and took a thousand pictures of his childhood haunts from his daily walks around the neighborhood.

His old hometown was just as Minghao had remembered it - bustling, dusty, at times peaceful, and a lot pretty. The sunsets on the beach were always a sight to see. It felt nice to be comforted by the place he grew up in. Too nice he almost forgot that this was where his husband grew up in, too.

And looking through his camera roll, he remembers the two of them walking around the park for their first date, all awkward conversations and shy stares. He remembers the restaurant they frequented in the morning for breakfast before running to school, late. He remembers how they first held hands, walking through the beach strip and how they didn't let go until they reached the waters. He remembers his laugh, his sparkling eyes, and the way sunshine seemed to kiss his skin.

He closes the gallery app on his phone. He's here for a break. A rest from the heaviness of their home, one that doesn't feel like it anymore. Truth be told, he doesn't think he'll go back there. His chest constricts, tears threatening to fall. He shakes his head.

He walks on until he reached his favorite spot - the clearing just a distance from the main road where he can see the rest of the city glittering ahead. The serenity of the quiet night and his troubled thoughts made him close his eyes, wanting to forget everything for a while. This feels like freedom, he thinks.

And yet it isn't. Not really.

**

Coming back to a dark and quiet house isn't a new thing for Junhui. But this is the fourth night that he comes home to emptiness, and he feels like the forever of their vows is slipping from his grasp like water on his fingertips.

The fridge is full with bottles of unopened wine. The cupboard is full of salad ingredients he would never deign to eat.

He got dressed in his pyjamas and poured himself a glass of wine, the tv playing a drama he doesn't watch but the house was just too quiet. That night, he cried himself to sleep.

**

Minghao comes back home after a week. He sort of knows what he wants, what is best for them. The papers lay on the coffee table; the pen he always carried around, a gift from one of Junhui's travels, lay beside it. He avoids looking at it. Instead, he sat on the couch, mindlessly changing channels, eyes not seeing anything on the screen in front of him. He waited. His stomach growls sometime after 11 PM, but he ignores it. 

He finally fell asleep at 3. Still on the damn couch with the tv on. Junhui doesn't come home.

**

When Junhui does come back, a day later, at midnight, the house was still dark, but Minghao's slippers were by the door. He breathes a sigh, apprehensive and relieved all at once.

They don't talk, but Minghao knows they have to, soon. The papers were moved to his nightstand, a glaring reminder every time he enters the room. He thinks he'll bring it up after Christmas.

Christmas was spent at his parents' house. This time, Minghao was the one who drove the car while Junhui alternated between staring out the window and answering work emails on his phone. Like the last time, it was quiet. The radio was on, and all afternoon, old love songs were playing. Minghao didn't change the station, though. He hummed along to the songs under his breath, but of course Junhui could hear.

They arrived and everybody greeted them with high spirits. Everyone was there, and they all helped with cooking and setting up the table for Christmas dinner.

Most of his childhood favorite dishes were there, and his aunt even brought the pork soup that had Junhui's eyes gleaming because it was his favorite. The children were sent to bed early, and the adults enjoyed the wine that Junhui and Minghao brought with them.

It was close to two AM when the last of their relatives went to retire for the night. Minghao volunteered to clean up the last of the mess, chugging the last bottle of his favorite red before throwing the trash.

He comes back to the living room to find Junhui on the couch, eyes closed but Minghao knew he was still awake, judging by his uneven breathing.

He smiled at the sight. He thinks this is the most peaceful he's seen his husband this past year, his gentle face now often troubled with frowns and fatigue. His bright eyes that used to look at him with so much adoration now seemed dull, barely looking at him at all. He must be tired of me, Minghao thinks. Or at least of us. This.

He didn't know what came over him. He connected his phone to the bluetooth speakers and played a song, one they danced to at their wedding. The thought puts a smile on his face.

Junhui opens his eyes as the first strums of the guitar echoed throughout the room. He looked questioningly at his husband, who just shrugged and stood up to where he was. Minghao held his arms out, helping Junhui stand up, and their arms wound around each other, as natural as it used to be.

They stood in the middle of the living room, holding on to each other, swaying until the song ended, and then a moment more. There were a lot of things that needed to be said between them, but for now, silence was enough.

If we're going down this way, at least I'll have this, Minghao thinks. The smile on his husband's face made his heart hurt all the more.

**

They went back home the next day. Junhui felt like the holidays did the both of them good, seeing as how he felt lighter than he had been in months, and Minghao didn't seem to be so down anymore. They even shared an embrace as they went to sleep that night.

So imagine his surprise when he arrived home on the last day of the year, to see Minghao's clothes stuffed onto an open suitcase, and his husband on the dining table, files of papers in front of him.

"Minghao, what's wrong?" he asked, dropping the box he was carrying on the floor as he went closer. Minghao doesn't look at him.

"I want a divorce," he replied, eyes trained onto the papers in front of him.

Junhui could not speak. This was the one thing he dreaded, something he desperately hoped wouldn't happen despite the last few months of their actions hinting towards it.

"You're... That's it? You're just gonna.. Give up? On this? On us?" Junhui felt his tears building up, his eyes becoming less clear.

"This is not working anymore," Minghao said, his voice clear and strong. Junhui shivered at how distant he sounded.

"It hasn't been for a while, Junhui, and we both know that." 

This time, Minghao looked at him, and Junhui can see both anger and sadness in his eyes. He desperately wanted to hold Minghao close, tell him he doesn't want his husband unhappy nor mad. But, he supposes, I am the reason for why he's feeling like this. I better make it go away.

Junhui knew Minghao was right. It breaks his heart to know that.

** One year later **

Nothing much has changed after a year. Minghao is home, makes dinner and opens a bottle of wine. The tv is on, some drama he doesn't bother watching.

His phone rings. It's his mother.

"Ma, you don't need to keep calling me, you know. I already told you-"

"that you're coming here with food and someone new. I'm dying to know who it is! You never tell your Mama anything these days," he could feel his mother dramatically making those big eyes and pout through the phone.

"You'll know when we get there, Ma. We're having dinner in a while. Talk to you again soon," and he hangs up the phone.

There was a knock on the door, and he smiles as he opens it.

His husband walks in, his arms carrying two plastic bags of groceries and their baby, quietly sleeping and drooling on his shoulder.

"How was it? Did it rain? I knew I should have gone with you two," he mutters quietly, taking the baby in his arms so his husband could drop the groceries.

"It's okay, love. You know how much he loves looking at the stars at night, and the grocery store is literally on the ground floor - it didn't rain by the way, but he fell asleep just as we were getting back after finishing his milk. Thank you for making dinner," he smiles.

"Let's eat? I'll just put Channie to bed first. Oh, and Mama called," Minghao said.

"Let me guess, she's dying to know who you're bringing with us?" Junhui said with a wide grin.

"I want to keep Chan our little secret at least until the family fathering. They'll be all over him by then, love. You know how they are," Minghao said when he comes back. He smiles and walks over to him. He gives Junhui a hug and they stood like that for a few minutes, holding each other, swaying slowly to a rhythm only their hearts can hear.

**

A year ago, they were on the brink of letting go. Minghao woke up and the room was empty and quiet. He supposed Junhui must have gone away. A heavy tear fell from his eye but he wiped it away. This is what he wants. This is what's best for them. If it's not working, there's no use holding on, is there?1

With heavy steps he went out of his room to make himself tea. Tears were still falling from his eyes. He stopped in his tracks just as he stepped out of the door. On the dining table, there was a fresh pot of tea and Junhui was still sitting there, asleep with his head pillowed by his arms, tear tracks down his cheeks. He woke up at the sound of Minghao's footsteps and, seeing him, he said "I don't want to. I'm sorry. I.. I don't want to lose you. I'm sorry. I resigned from my job, found a new one at my friend's. It's been draining me, us, and I'm sorry that we have become so distant, but I love you. And I want to be with you still. If you think there's no hope for us, then I will respect your decision, but you have to know that for me, it's only ever going to be you, Hao.." and Minghao crumbled.

He clung onto Junhui, letting tears fall freely from his eyes. He doesn't want to let Junhui go, either; last night he looked at the divorce papers as if they're going to take his life away. He supposes it would have. He just doesn't want to stay if it meant they were constantly about to drift apart.

But now, they're holding each other tight, and he thinks that maybe this was what they needed. A restart. Because he knows in his heart that it was only ever going to be Junhui for him, too.

**

"The food's getting cold," Minghao reminds him, but doesn't let go. Junhui just hums, gives him a kiss on the forehead before taking his hand and they sat down. Their son peacefully sleeps in his room, and they're holding each other's hand on the table. Minghao thinks everything's going to be okay. After all, Christmas is always a wonderful time.


End file.
